


Talk

by future_fishy



Series: Victuuri Week 2017 [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Day 6, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Makkachin is a good doggo, Victuuri Week 2017, Viktor and Yuuri are bad at it, Viktor's family aren't nice people, Yuuri is a good fiancé, prompt: communication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/future_fishy/pseuds/future_fishy
Summary: Viktor wasn't himself today.





	

Viktor wasn’t himself today. Yuuri woke up, not to breakfast, but to Viktor sleeplessly tangled in the sheets beside him. Viktor was an early-bird and couldn’t stand staying in bed past nine in the morning, even if he had nowhere to be; so finding him hogging the blankets at twenty-past-eleven was a concern. This meant one of two things: either Viktor was sick, or something had kept him up all night. Yuuri guessed the second, and judging by the big ball of brown fur huddled at Viktor’s side, so did Makkachin.

“Vitya,” Yuuri started tentatively, “what’s the matter, darling?”

“Nothing, Yuuri, I’m fine.” Viktor lied, curling in on himself even more.

“I know you’re not fine, Vitya.” Yuuri kissed Viktor’s temple, “I’m gonna go make breakfast now, okay?”

Viktor nodded, and Yuuri stroked a hand through his hair.

“You can, um, you can talk to me about it if you need to.” Yuuri said, before tucking in the duvet against Viktor’s back and making his way to the kitchen.

Yuuri had never been good at comforting people. The first time he saw Viktor cry — _made_ Viktor cry — all he managed to do was point out that Viktor was, in fact, crying, before Viktor frustratedly told him what to do. Yuuri knew now that when Viktor cried he was supposed to hold him and kiss him and tell him everything was going to be okay; which wasn’t what Yuuri would want for himself but different strokes, he supposed. But Viktor wasn’t crying. He wasn’t _fine_ either, but general not-okayness wasn’t something Yuuri was equipped to deal with. All he could hope was that Viktor would tell him what was wrong, but when it came to stubbornness to talk about their feelings, they were both as bad as each other.

When Yuuri made it to the kitchen, he found the milk, eggs and flour out on the counter. The coffee grinder was out with the beans half ground, and the house phone lay on the counter next to the french press, instead of in the dock on the coffee table where it belonged. _Something happened this morning,_ Yuuri thought, dread heavy in his stomach and heart thrumming in his chest. With shaking hands Yuuri put the milk and eggs back in the fridge, trying not to let his thoughts spiral. The creak of a floorboard startled him and he turned to see Viktor stood in the doorway, duvet wrapped around his shoulders.

Yuuri’s voice was strained and unsure when he spoke, “What happened, Vitya?”

Viktor crossed the room and stooped down to rest his head on Yuuri’s shoulder, “Can I have a cup of tea first?”

“Alright, love.” Yuuri hugged him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “Do you want to sit down?”

Viktor shook his head, opting instead to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist from behind as Yuuri put the kettle on. Making tea with Viktor wrapped around him was less than convenient, but Yuuri would do whatever made Viktor feel better. A tremor still shook through his limbs, however much he willed it to stop. It felt more like Viktor was comforting _him_ right now, when it should be the other way around. Once the mug of tea was in Viktor’s much steadier hands, the couple settled themselves down on the couch; Viktor still cocooned in the blanket with his head on Yuuri’s shoulder, Makkachin lay across their laps.

“Are, um,” Yuuri tried, “are you ready to talk now?”

Viktor took a deep breath, staring at his fingers where they threaded through Makkachin’s fur, “My uncle called this morning to tell me my mother is in the hospital. She’s dying, probably.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

Viktor sighed, “It’s fine.”

“Viktor—”

“She wasn’t a good mother, Yuuri.” He snapped, “I know you’re supposed to love your parents, but I don’t.”

Yuuri sucked in a breath. It was the first he’d heard of any of this.

“I— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you…” Viktor paused, “You wouldn’t know, I don’t talk about them.”

“Do you want to?” Yuuri started, “Talk about them?”

Viktor didn’t, particularly. It wasn’t a pleasant thing to talk about, but if he didn’t get his thoughts out in the open they would circle around futilely in his head all day, like Makkachin chasing his own tail. He took a long breath, then another, mimicking Yuuri’s breathing exercises.

“I cut my parents out of my life as soon as I had the chance. I’ve been estranged from them ever since.” Viktor said. Simply, like he was describing the weather. “Maybe it was selfish, but it felt like the right thing to do, for me.”

“Tell me.” Yuuri said, not a question, but not really a demand.

“They put a lot of pressure on me.” Viktor pulled the blanket tighter around him, “I was good at skating, but if they were ever proud of me, they never showed it. And it wasn’t enough for them, I needed to be good at school too, somehow. I’d go to the rink in the morning, be in school all day, go back to the rink in the evening _and_ somehow find time to study so my grades didn’t slip. I had so little time to actually relax that Yakov lied to them and told them I had all day practice on Saturdays, just so I could go and hang out with the other skaters. Whenever I complained that it was too much all I got was ‘we’re giving you a start in life that neither of us had, you should be grateful’. They acted like I owed them something just for being alive.”

“That’s awful.” Yuuri remarked, “I’m so sorry, Vitya.”

“I know it’s awful, but I still feel guilty about not going to see her.” Viktor’s voice cracked, “My uncle said he’d completely understand if I didn’t go but… Doesn’t that make me a horrible person? If I don’t go and see my mother on her deathbed?”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person, Vitya.” Yuuri tried, testing the waters, “It’s not bad or selfish or ungrateful to cut someone who hurt you out of your life.”

Viktor shifted, cuddling Makkachin close to his chest and nestling even closer into Yuuri’s neck, “You think so?”

“Yes, darling. The way I see it, children don’t _owe_ their parents anything. If they’re good parents, their kids will want to be in their lives after they grow up; if they’re bad parents, they don’t deserve to have their kids in their lives anyway.” Yuuri said, truthfully. “And I definitely don’t think you’re supposed to love your parents no matter what. They were horrible to you, you have every right to not love them.”

“Thank you, Yuuritchka.” Viktor said after a long time, “I actually feel a little better now I’ve got that off my chest.”

“That’s good.” Yuuri kissed the top of Viktor’s head. “I love you, sweetheart, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know. I love you too.”

Yuuri’s stomach growled, loudly, and Viktor laughed.

“I would ask if you wanted me to make breakfast, but it’s closer to lunch now.” Viktor said.

“How about we get dressed and go out to lunch then?” Yuuri suggested, “It might take your mind off things and, besides, I think Makkachin needs a W-A-L-K.”

He spelled the word, because if Makkachin heard ‘walk’ in Russian, English or Japanese, he’d be bounding around the apartment and barking until they left the house.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”


End file.
